One Moment In Time
by laurahales
Summary: A/U in which Blaine is a young playwriter who meets a mysterious man at the debut of his play. Blaine later learns that his name is Kurt Hummel, a 1930's famous performer and is mesmerized by him. Kurt however, passed away recently. Blaine now has to travel back in time in order to meet the man he fell in love with. This story is based on the film "Somewhere In Time".
1. Chapter 1

**January 2008.**

Blaine was just coming out of the bathroom when his friend Christopher stopped him in the hallway of the theater to congratulate him.

"I'm proud of you, Anderson" Christopher said smiling politely.

"Thank you so much. Did you enjoy the show?"

"Of course I did. You know, I didn't take Wayne's word, because he's the one to talk" Blaine laughed "But this is really good. You are a really talented writer. I'm talking about some serious Edgar Allan Poe shit going on with you."

"Oh, I don't think I do, Chris. But thank you. By the way, there is more champagne in the bar. It is all on me tonight. You'd better enjoy it."

"Your wish is an order. See you around, Blainey."

Blaine smiled again once his friend left. He walked the long hallway paying attention to the old photos that hanged on the walls. Legends of the theater had photos in that same stage he had his play performed. Blaine was overwhelmed by it. The Boy Wonder Of Playwriting, the magazines called him. Only twenty-two years old and already taking the whole theater community by surprise.

He had written a thriller for the stage which combined a dramatic plot with audience interactivity. The play wasn't only on the stage. He created an atmosphere of adrenaline around him. The plot involved a mystery, psychological thriller and a love story that tied all of that.

The air suddenly shifted and Blaine was startled by an elder man who was probably on his 90's.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I got a little bit…"

The elder smiled politely, his eyes were light blue, almost green. His face was delicate and wrinkled. Blaine thought he should've been an attractive man when he was young, his face was classical. His jaws weren't broad. He looked like a 1930's Broadway star.

The man grabbed Blaine's hand. Blaine didn't want to be rude so he let the man hold it. He opened Blaine's hand and put what looked like a gold pocket watch inside it. Blaine didn't understand but held the watch.

"Please come back. Come back to me." The elder said, staring intently inside Blaine's eyes.

"Sir, I…" Blaine started, holding his gaze.

"Blaine! Are you there?" He heard Wayne calling for him. He turned his back to the mysterious man for a second to say that he was already coming and when he turned again the man wasn't there. Vanished.

The gold watch, however, continued on Blaine's hand. He looked at the antique with certain curiosity. He was confused as he could be. The watch was delicate, as the man that gave it to him. Despite being very old – the date of fabrication was carved on it; 1925 – it still shined and displayed a design esthetic long lost for contemporaneous jewelers.

"Blaine, darling, what are you doing?" Wayne stopped by him.

"I was just… Looking at the pictures."

"Oh, they are divine. Are you ready to go?"

"Sure. Let me just grab my coat."

"Already did." Wayne helped him dress his trench coat.

"You are amazing." Blaine said, planting a kiss in his boyfriend's lips.

"I know." Wayne smiled. When he smiled, Blaine could swear his heart would skip a beat. "Now let's go home and have _our celebration_."

They held hands and exited the theater.

* * *

The morning after Blaine woke up alone in bed. He could smell pancakes. Wayne was already up and in the kitchen. Five-star breakfast in the morning, every morning. This was one of the perks of dating one of the most successful chefs in New York. Blaine got up and the image of the man he encountered on the theater the night before suddenly came back to his mind. He walked towards the blazer he wore yesterday and searched the pockets to find a delicate gold watch.

He walked to the living room with the watch in hands, memorizing all the details of its display and the decoration of its cover.

"I see my talented and favorite boyfriend is awake." Wayne greeted him with a pancake plate in hand, and planted a kiss on Blaine's lips.

"What do you mean by favorite boyfriend?" Blaine asked, faking suspicion.

"Oh, semantics. _Pardon me_. My talented, favorite and _only _boyfriend."

"Now that's more like it." Blaine pressed his lips on Wayne's with a little bit of urgency. Wayne noticed that.

"Well, someone woken up off the right side of the bed today."

Blaine felt a smile spreading across his face.

"I'm just happy. I have a wonderful boyfriend, a wonderful apartment in New York city and it is quite big. And I have a finished play at last."

"Yes. And all those things go better with pancakes. Strawberry pancakes specially. Your favorite."

Blaine sat on the table to eat and faced the perfectly organized plate with strawberry pancakes freshly cooked and delicately decorated with a sprinkle of sugar and cream. That was the thing about Wayne. He was incredibly perfectionist with the things he did. He was extremely clean, that was his style. He never exceeded himself. The way he cooked was clean, the way he dressed was clean, their house was clean. And Blaine loved it. Blaine was _the over_ and Wayne was _the less_. Blaine over thought, over cared. Blaine also was the over romantic one. Wayne, of course, was sweet and amazing and caring. But Blaine loved some excess when talking about romance. He wanted that kind of love that makes people write sonnets about it, the kind of love that lives on through time, the kind of love that triumphs over death.

But in some way, the arrangement of things, Wayne being the calm and collected one and Blaine being the ultra-romantic he was, their relationship worked out. And Blaine had a suspicion that that was the reason they worked so well. They were balance. While Wayne taught Blaine that heart shouldn't rule his life at all times, Blaine taught him that it was okay to dream a little more, to love a little looser.

The watch weighed on his hand and he forgot it was ever there. He put it in front of him one more time while eating and again, analyzed the watch. And more than all, why the man seemed so urgent in delivering it to him. He remained confused as why the man gave it to him. He didn't say any names, he just said "Come back to me".

"What do you got there?" Wayne asked.

"It's just something someone gave it to me yesterday. It's not a big deal."

"Let me see it." Blaine handed the watch and Wayne held it ever so delicately with his capable hands.

"Blaine, this is antique."

"I know. The date is carved."

"Oh, I see it now." Wayne answered, now he had a curious look on his face, analyzing the gold watch. "Blaine, this is actual gold, I think."

"Since when did you become a jewelry connoisseur?" Blaine stood up from his seat and embraced Wayne's back.

"Well, I do not have to be a connoisseur to see that this is gold." Wayne half-turned his head in Blaine's direction. "Who gave you this?"

"An old man, at the theater yesterday."

"Don't you know him?"

"No." Blaine stopped hugging his boyfriend and arched his eyebrows. "I do not know him at all. But he seemed to know me."

"Wow. That's creepy." Wayne joked. "But I have to get to work, Blainey. I could discuss your creepy old fans the whole day, but that restaurant it's not gonna run itself."

"I know. I know. You have to go and I'll just start writing something. Maybe I'll swing by the theater to give it back to this man. It's a gold watch, it must've some value."

"Don't return it." Wayne replied, and Blaine was about to object when he spoke again. "That's rude! For some obvious reason he wanted you to have it and you shouldn't give it back. But you definitely should know who this man is."

"I'll see. I'll see. Now go. You're gonna be late."

"I'll see you later, babe." Wayne kissed him profoundly and then left the apartment.

Later that day, Blaine went to the theater to see the guest list of who had gone in the debut of his play. But it was a v.i.p debut and every single person there were ex-coworkers, friends and family. He knew absolutely everyone on that list.

They said it could be someone that worked there, but everyone that worked the other night was there at the moment, and Blaine didn't recognize anyone as the man who gave him the watch. He asked if they were sure that that was it and they showed him the work sheet.

Blaine, then, settled with it being some admirer of his work. Weeks, and months passed, and the thought of the old man didn't bother him anymore. But every now and then what the man said would pop into his head.

It seemed like something out of a movie. And Blaine had a talent for mysteries but he just couldn't figure that one out. So he let it be. But he didn't let it go.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey guys, it's me! A quick author's note to apologize for taking so long to put this chapter up but I was travelling, so that is why I didn't updated. Anyways, I hope you have a great time reading this one since it took a long time to write it. In this chapter the story begins to get more interesting. P.s: I made a super long chapter to compensate for my absence.

* * *

**June 2012**

"How could you do that to me? You know that I wasn't planning to leave New York any time soon! You knew it! This is our home. How can you leave our home?" Blaine yelled at Wayne.

"Blaine, please!" Wayne pleaded in exasperation "It's just a job! We're gonna come back eventually. I know this is our home, but just think about it. I have no challenges over here. And I'm a young chef. We're just twenty-six years old for crying out loud!"

"And it isn't good enough for you where we are now?"

"Yes…"

"Because it doesn't seem like it, Wayne. I don't think that you think it's good enough for us to be successful here. I don't think you think it's good that I am one of the most prestigious and acclaimed play writers here and I don't think you think it's good enough that you are one of the most loved chefs around here."

"Blaine, I…" Wayne started, frustrated.

"Tell me what you want, Wayne. Because we're at the top here and I –"

"We're trapped, Blaine!" Wayne yelled suddenly "I feel trapped and I am tired of it! I wanna expand my horizons, I want to go places, Blaine. And I want to grow. But most of all I wanna grow with you. I want you to be in all of these places with me. You are a writer, you'll find inspiration anywhere. I'm tired of his same living life, Blaine. I don't wanna feel caged anymore, I am just starting my life!"

"We can have a different life." Blaine started, now a bit more comprehensive "We can change our ways, we can make it better..."

"No, Blaine. Everything is ruined. Here is ruined for us. We are doomed if we stay here."

"What do you even mean–" Blaine asked, confused.

"I slept with someone else, Blaine." Wayne said. His voice harsh like steel. He looked at Blaine's eyes, waiting for a reaction.

At first, nothing came but silence. Blaine blinked both his eyes slowly like what he heard was just a joke, just something he misunderstood. He waited the catch but it didn't come. It couldn't be true. Please, don't let it be true. But it was. And then it hit him all at once and he just couldn't believe it. He stared into Wayne's light blue eyes. The hole in his heart growing and becoming more unbearable to handle, burning and tearing him apart from inside out like acid.

"Why?" He simply asked.

"I don't know. I, I think I was just checking…"

"Checking?" Blaine asked, his voice distorted by the sudden lump that appeared in his throat.

"If I could still feel something. I am so sorry, Blaine."

Blaine didn't hear him apologizing. All he could hear was the first six words that came out from Wayne's mouth. And now he asked himself if he wasn't capable of inspiring feelings from his boyfriend. When did Wayne stopped feeling anything?

"You don't have feelings for me anymore?" He asked, and then he cleaned his throat and turned his gaze away from Wayne. He was terrified that the answer would be negative.

"I was out of my mind. I wasn't myself when I did it." Wayne replied.

Blaine did an annoyed mannerism with his hand and put it to support his forehead. Wayne recognized that mannerism. It was the mannerism Blaine had countless done whenever he felt despair. When he felt hopeless. And it torn Wayne's soul to see that the reason why Blaine was doing this was his' fault.

"I wanna go back to feeling the same way I did, Blaine. I want to sort things out, make it right. I wasn't feeling the same way anymore and it destroyed me, Blaine. How couldn't I feel any necessity of being close to you anymore? It's like we grew tired of each other."

"I'm never tired of you, Wayne." Blaine replied, his voice breaking when he said his boyfriend's name.

"Yes, Blaine! You are!" Wayne's voice also wasn't steady but he kept going "Tell me when was the last time that you stopped and thought about me, Blaine. We don't miss each other anymore and that breaks my heart! You were everything to me and yet we grew so apart that I even had the fucking will to sleep with someone else. _I cheated_! What does that make me? The villain of the situation? I wanna go back! We grew apart inside our own home! How's that possible?" Wayne was fully hysterical now and tears rolled over Blaine's face. But he just sat there, with his fist covering his mouth, looking desolated.

"Say something, Blaine! Please! Say anything if you care about me!" Now Wayne's tears streamed down his face.

Blaine stood up from the dinner table and walked into his direction.

"I obviously notice that we aren't the same way anymore. But I was expecting this, Wayne. This is the real time to show who cares about the other and who is serious about this. And yes, I would love to go back the way we were and it feels awful to know that you don't feel appreciated, because I honestly love you. I loved you from day one. When I got in your stupid restaurant and I met you and I was enchanted by you because you were funny, sensible and handsome and cult. And most of all I was fascinated by you, the way you speak, the way your eyes shine, the way you looked at me, Wayne. And all of those things I'm not giving myself the time to appreciate anymore. But I never, never ever had to sleep with someone else to make me feel valid again." Blaine walked towards the door and opened it ever slightly. "Please, go back to your apartment in Brooklyn. It's good that you kept it. And I hope someday I will be honorable enough to let this go. But today is no the day. So please, leave."

Wayne's eyes were static in chock and they gazed at Blaine's.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I don't know what I'm doing. I just need some time. Please respect me on this."

Wayne didn't discuss any further. He grabbed his black leather jacket from the coat hanger on the wall and walked towards the door, he stopped in front of Blaine and said "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve any of this."

"No, I didn't."

Wayne glanced at him once more and closed the door behind himself. That night, everything Blaine could do was replay inside his mind the moment when Wayne admitted that he had cheated. Blaine tossed and turned in the bed that seemed so big without the boyfriend by his side. Finally, he got up and walked to the living room, sat by his laptop and wrote a tiny note:

_"Love cuts deeper than razors, harder than steel._

_Sometimes it is enough to sustain yourself but not the ones you wish it would sustain._

_And people break your heart. Specially the people you'd never have the courage to break theirs."_

* * *

Wayne stood outside his' and Blaine's apartment door, two weeks later he admitted he cheated on his boyfriend. Since it happened, Blaine had been weariless ignoring his calls and whatever effort he put on trying to get in touch with him. He had countless times left voice mails telling he was sorry but the boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend, since he didn't know where they stood – had simply ignored every single one.

But this morning, Blaine had texted him, asking him to meet at 3 p.m. at their apartment. And there Wayne was, waiting to talk to him. He rang the bell and a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man answered. Wayne recognized him as Blaine's brother, Cooper.

"Hello, asshole. Come in." Cooper greeted him with steel in his voice.

"Hi, Cooper." Wayne rushed himself to get into the apartment "Where's Blaine?"

"My little brother is at the shower." Cooper answered "Anyway, I have something to tell you now and I want you to pay attention because I'm being fucking serious. I told you that if you ever hurt my baby bro you would regret it." Cooper cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck "Now get ready for the pain…"

"There's no need to threat, Coop." Wayne heard Blaine's voice coming down from the hall, being followed by his figure, his voice was calm and he had wet hair. "We are all adults here."

"As you wish, Blainey." He smiled at Blaine "Should I leave you with this horrible, nefarious piece of man?"

"Yes. I would appreciate if you did that, Coop."

"Okay, little brother." He tapped Blaine's shoulder in encouragement, turned at Wayne's direction and signed the I-have-my-eyes-on-you gesture and left the apartment.

"Cooper is always something to see." Wayne breathed.

"That's what I say." Blaine joked "He's been very supportive. He came here to 'distract my mind by showing me the Coop lifestyle'. He's being a very good older brother."

A few moments of awkward silence passed between both, until Wayne spoke.

"So, um, hi." He said carefully.

"Hi."

"I really appreciate that you called me here today."

"Well, we needed to talk sooner or later." Blaine sighed.

"I know. And I am so sorry, Blaine. I am really, really sorry. I was an idiot and please, if you give me the chance I will never ever do this with you again. I know what I put you through. You trusted me and I just – I wasted that trust. And I hate myself for it."

"Wayne, it's fine." Blaine rested on the arm of the easy chair "I mean, it's not fine, obviously. And I still don't understand why you did it, but I get it. It's not like I don't have any fault on this either. I should have noticed that you were feeling like this. But I'm sorry that you made the choice you did. It will leave a scar on us and you know it. And I'm not like this. I want to trust you, but I'm afraid I will get hurt if I do."

"I understand. So where does that leave us? Where do we stand?" Wayne asked staring into Blaine's eyes.

"I think we should take a break. If that's fine with you, I mean – if you still want to try to fix this."

"Of course I do –"

"But for now, I'll be leaving."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a vacation. Cooper convinced me on taking some time off by myself. It will be good. And you will be here and you'll get to do whatever you want. So this is it. I just wanted to let you know that and well, sort things out."

"When do you come back?"

"That's… undetermined. But it will not be a long time. Maybe a month, maybe less… I don't really know. But when I come back, we'll see where we are."

"Okay. Okay. I will wait." Wayne said and tried to hold Blaine's hand but the other faked distraction and pushed the hand away.

"So that's it, I guess…" Blaine complemented "I will see you soon."

"Yes, I hope so."

"Okay then. I should, um, I should pack my bags." Blaine said, standing up from the chair.

"Oh, sure. Yeah." Wayne said, rushed, and walked towards the door, he opened it and stopped turning again to stare at Blaine "Just one more thing: I love you Blaine. I hope that we can fix this."

"I wish you have thought about that before you've done what you did, Wayne." And there it was what Wayne was expecting, the harshness in Blaine's tone, the cold look in his eyes, and as quickly as it appeared, the normal, liquid brown-eyed Blaine was back "I just need some time for myself."

"Bye, Blaine."

"Good-bye."

The moment Wayne left; Blaine subconsciously put his hand inside his jacket pocket and grabbed a tiny metal object from inside of it. And in his hand there it was, the gold watch he received as a gift from a man he never saw again in his life. But somehow, through the hard times when Blaine held that watch it gave him a sense of comfort. He opened the tiny cover of the watch and looked at the numbers on the display. And then turned the watch in a way he could see the date it was made – 1925.

"You sure are old. Aren't you? I bet that you'd tell a lot of stories if you could talk." He said looking at the watch in his hand "Like, who's your owner, for starters." Blaine snorted "Look at me, I'm talking to a watch. I'm going crazy, I'm sure of it."

"Squirt! I'm home!" He heard Cooper shouting from the living-room.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not call me this?"

"Sorry. I'm just used to it." Coop smiled "So, how did it go?"

"Better than I thought."

"I'm happy. Are you ready for your trip tomorrow?" Cooper said while he threw himself on the sofa.

"Yes. I just have to pack some things I forgot."

"Okay, then you should do that. After all, you're leaving early."

"Yeah, I know."

Blaine was walking to his room when Cooper said:

"Little brother, you never told me the story of how you got that watch."

"It's a bit odd, and long. Maybe someday I'll tell you."

"You are strange, Blainey. You are."

Blaine smiled and went to his room to finish packing his bags.

* * *

The following day, Blaine jumped the door of his Porsche 911 Turbo Cabriolet.

"Okay, are you ready to do this, little brother?" Cooper rested on his elbows at the driver's door, he took off his sunglasses to look at Blaine.

"Yes."

"Then go on, little brother. Have a good rest. See you." He walked away from the car "Don't worry, I'll water your plants."

"Okay, thanks Coop."

"See if you find a cute boy. This time one who actually is a good guy."

"I'll see what I can do. See you soon, Coop."

And Blaine stepped on the pedal. Suddenly the car was smoothly riding away from the Upper East Side, leaving his apartment, his brother and New York behind.

Blaine had to drive several hours and then catch a plane from Michigan to the Mackinac Island and finally he arrived at the Grand Hotel.

"Mr. Anderson, it's good to have you here." The old bellhop named Henry received him "Long time no see. You have changed a lot. New York did good on you."

"Hello, Henry." He greeted the man "Yes, it sure is. The last time I came here I was fifteen years old, I guess."

"Yes, you were. What about that older brother of yours? The other Mr. Anderson?"

"Oh, he's fine. As flashy as ever."

"Good to see things didn't change. Do you want some help with these bags?"

"Sure."

Henry picked Blaine's luggage and with patience he started to pull the cart accompanying the boy.

"How are things, Mr. Anderson?"

"Oh, and there's no need to call me Mr., Henry. You know me since I was a kid. I'm not my father."

"Understood, Mr. Anderson – I mean, master Blaine. And don't say that near the ladies, or they will know that I'm old."

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's not like your hair accuses you of something, right?" Blaine laughed.

"I think the kids call it 'grey style'."

"Oh, I'm sure they do."

"Master Blaine, I don't understand why you stopped coming, you came here every summer."

"Well, I just drifted away from my family a little bit."

"How's your father, master Blaine?"

"I wouldn't really know. I haven't talked to him in a while."

"So that didn't change much, I'm afraid."

"No, that's still in the same path."

"Oh well. Here we are master Blaine." The bellhop opened the door of his suite "This is where you'll be staying."

"Alright. Thank you, Henry."

"Don't forget, the dinner is served at 8 p.m. as usual."

"How could I forget? I'll see you later."

Henry left his luggage at the room and left him alone. Blaine texted Cooper to let him know he got there safe and all. He got his notepad out to see if he could write something. Half an hour went by and the page was still blank so he decided he would go outside to find some inspiration.

The boy took the stairs out of the hotel and went to the deck, he sat down and looked at the water and at the little boats tied to the poles.

Blaine and his family would come to the Grand Hotel every summer. Well, technically the whole family took vacations but in fact, he and Cooper would go to the hotel and their parents would go somewhere else. Blaine would get sad every once in a while so Cooper asked their father for a sailboat and sailboat classes and took Blaine with him. Cooper found out to be an awful sailor but Blaine was a natural. While Cooper felt seasick and would hate to go sailing, Blaine loved the splashes of water and the wind driving them forward. And that became their past-time on the summer. By Blaine's teenage hood he had become a skilled sailor and the boat would seem like it was flying through the waves, when Blaine was sailing, Cooper often didn't felt seasick anymore due to the smoothly guiding of his younger brother.

When Blaine got to the age of fifteen, he and his father had a big fight. It was also the time when Blaine had decided to come out. His father couldn't really accept it and his mother wasn't headstrong enough to stand by her son's side. Only Cooper had taken Blaine's side. But what could he do? Their father decided to buy Blaine an apartment in New York and sent him there to study whatever he wanted to study. Blaine, at first, thought that it was actually his father encouraging him to grow, but it turned out to be a way to isolate him, putting him aside. As further as he could be from his family. Cooper would often visit and check on him, but he and his father's relation became more and more outworn. Blaine grew in anger at his father for pushing him away and that resulted in no more family holidays together or whatsoever. And so, he never returned to the Grand Hotel again.

Until now, when he was already a grown-up who had his own fill and could sustain himself. He missed the comfort the Hotel gave to him, and he wished he didn't sell his boat. Blaine took out the ancient gold watch from his pocket and looked at the time; 7:30 p.m. the clock showed, he got up and walked to the lobby to dinner.

There were a few things he enjoyed about the old Hotel but nothing was quite comparable to the food. Blaine loved the food, it was sophisticated but at the same time, it was simple. After he felt stuffed enough, he stood up to take a walk around the great lobby.

He enjoyed seeing the photos of old famous guests they had hanged all across the lobby. There were some movie stars here, singers there and Broadway stars too. Blaine had always taken a particular interest on Broadway and that's why he made it his objective to write a play to be known as a Broadway classic. He saw photos of Patti LuPone, Julie Andrews, Humphrey Bogart… But one in special caught his eye. One that had been hanged very recently, because Blaine didn't remember of it from the time when he spent his summers here. It showed a young, light blue-eyed man with delicate features and a carefully styled tousled hair. Blaine was breathless for a moment due to his beauty. He was the most beautiful man Blaine had ever seen.

Blaine had to know who he was. He just had to know. So he went to dig something about the man. So far he knew he was a Broadway performer. So he went after Henry to discover who this man was. He had to know who he was. He felt a connection to that man.

"Henry! Henry! I need to ask you something." Blaine stopped by the central hall desk and rang the bell repeatedly.

Henry, who was inside the stock behind the desk appeared soon, alarmed and flushed.

"Master Blaine" He gasped "I came running to attend you. I thought you were having a heart-attack. What is the urgency? Did your room caught fire? Because once you brother, master Cooper, almost put your room on fire and –"

"I need to ask you something." Blaine said with urgency.

"Okay, what is it, master Blaine?"

"You know a lot about those old pictures on the wall on the great hall, don't you?"

"I sure do. I hang most of them, actually."

"Great! Can you please come and tell me who someone is?"

"I sure can, master Blaine."

Henry got out from behind the desk and accompanied Blaine to the spot where he saw the picture. Blaine rushed his steps, almost running across the hall.

"Master Blaine, while you are older but still in your 20's I can't say that I have the same luck over here…" Henry gasped and forced himself to keep going after Blaine.

"I'm sorry, Henry. But let's keep going."

"What is the urgency?"

"I don't know. I just need to know who he is."

"Who who is?"

Blaine stopped by the picture's side. And pointed at it.

"Who is he?"

"Oh! That? He's not particularly famous, you know. He's sure dashing and all." Henry breathed trying to send more air into his lungs "His name is Kurt…" Another long breath "Kurt Hummel. He's a Broadway performer from the early 1930's."

"He's gorgeous."

"I understand your fascination, master Blaine. But I still don't understand why…"

"Which kind of Broadway star was he?"

"He was a musical performer."

"Does he have a tape that I can listen to?" Blaine was frantic.

"No, I'm afraid there isn't, master Blaine."

Blaine was looking at the picture and felt suddenly disappointed. That man, Kurt Hummel, should sing fantastically. Something told Blaine that he was just fantastic in all aspects.

"However, master Blaine, we are paying a tribute to him in the museum hall. You can see it, if you want."

"I want!" Blaine toned his excitement down a bit, he had to know more about Kurt Hummel "Will you come with me?"

"As you wish, master Blaine."

They entered the museum and Blaine saw it was not a tribute to Kurt Hummel in particular, but to several others Broadway 1930's stars. Henry led him to Kurt's picture, the same one he saw on the other hall, only bigger. And there was another one, from when Kurt was thirty years old, Henry explained, and a last one from when he was 85 years old, the most recent one.

Blaine looked at it and his jaw dropped when he saw the photo. He recognized him. He recognized this man. That was the very same man that gave him the watch. There he was, the same wrinkles, the same eyes. That was him. He had met Kurt Hummel. However, older since he met him on 2008.

That was him. After so much time later – four years – he finally knew who the man was. And yet, he couldn't figure out the reason why he said 'Come back to me'. They had never know each other. At least, Blaine didn't know him. But now he did. And now Blaine would go further to find out why Kurt Hummel had gone after him.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine was out of breath.

"Master Blaine? Are you feeling fine?" Henry asked, looking concerned.

"This man. I have to meet this man."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible, sir…" Henry begun but Blaine interrupted him.

"It's a favor, Henry. Please, I have to meet him."

"It's not possible, sir, because Mr. Hummel passed away. Four years ago."

"What?" Blaine was shocked. "How?"

"He died from old age, master Blaine. I'm sorry." Henry apologized "However, I still know where he lived. You could, maybe, do some digging? Why are you so fascinated by him, master Blaine?"

"I feel like… I know him." Blaine sighed "I can't exactly explain… I just have to know more about him."

"I will get you the address, master Blaine. Just one second."

The bell hopper walked the way back to his desk to get Blaine the address while the boy looked at the photo. It was definitely him, Blaine knew his exactly features. The same eyes that Blaine gazed at. And the boy felt strange, but extremely curious. He looked at Kurt's younger years photograph.

"How did you know me?" And unconsciously he touched the gold watch inside his pocket, he even forgot he put it there, but it was becoming a habit. Whenever he felt anxious he would just hold the watch in his hand.

"Master Blaine." Henry softly called him "There you go." He handed Blaine the address in a tiny paper.

"Thank you, Henry. Is there any relative of Mr. Hummel I could get in touch with?"

"Well, he has a grandnephew. You could talk to him."

"Sure, yeah. A phone number… Would be nice."

"Oh, sorry master Blaine. Forgive this old man's mind." Henry wrote the number under the address.

"Thank you, Henry. You were very useful."

"Oh, master Blaine. I think of you as a grandson. Anything you need, just ask and I'll be happy to help."

Blaine thanked Henry again and went upstairs to his bedroom. He looked at the numbers in the paper and tried to figure out whatever he was going to say to this grandnephew of Kurt Hummel. Isaac Hudson. Where would he even begin? He was just plain clueless. He thought about saying the truth but he figured saying that he met Kurt once and out of the blue and just was researching about his life and everything he had ever done and why Kurt has looked for him in the first place, that just seemed something of restraining order matters. He was curious, not a stalker.

The writer thought it was best to just call the grandson and ask about Kurt because he was working on a Broadway essay on neglected – that sounded strong, he scratched that and just preferred to use the word _underestimated _– musical artists. He even did a quick research on his phone about some aspects of the period; just to sound like he was serious about the paper and not utterly lying to get closer to a man he had never known and felt so close to him.

That same night, Blaine tossed and turned in bed because he was eager to call the grandson. As he couldn't sleep, he got off the bed and walked towards the coat hanger to retrieve the gold watch he put there. As he looked at it, he felt relieved and the worries went away for some minutes. It was enough to make Blaine get back in bed, holding the watch in his hand, and fall asleep.

The morning after Blaine got up at 7 a.m. and debated for half an hour whether it was too soon to call the grandson. Finally he settled by calling at 8 a.m., it was a Wednesday. Blaine figured it would be okay to call somebody at 8 a.m. on a Wednesday. Wasn't it?

The clock stroke 08:01 a.m. and Blaine finally got the nerve to do what he needed to do. He picked up his cellphone and called the number Henry gave to him. On the other side of the line, after three rings, someone picked up.

_"Hello?" _There was a husky voice on the other side of the line.

"Hello. Good morning. Is this Isaac Hudson's number?"

_"Yeah yeah. You're speaking to him. How can I help you?"_

"Isaac, I'm Blaine Anderson and I'm a play writer. I've been researching about classic Broadway musical stars for a play that I'm currently working on. And I did some research on Kurt Hummel, and it pointed you as his closest family member."

_"Yeah, well, Kurt was the brother of my grandfather. He was always around while I was growing up. He was my father's godfather. But I don't really get why you are calling me?"_

"I just um… I would be really grateful if you gave me some material to write about him. Anything like, a family thing. Maybe a trip to his house? If that doesn't bother you of course, I'm just trying to know a little bit more about him."

Isaac took some seconds to answer and Blaine was nervous. He had the suspicion the man would probably think he was a creeper or something like that. And Blaine himself was starting to feel like a creeper. Why the hell did this man meant so much to him when he knew so little about Kurt? Blaine almost felt… attracted to Kurt. Not the Kurt he had known, the Kurt that showed up one day to give him a gold watch and plead him he would come back to him. But the picture Kurt. The classic Broadway performer Kurt. The past night all Blaine could think and dream about was listening to him singing or watching him perform. It was almost like Blaine was being drawn to Kurt's eyes in a black and white picture. Isaac's voice stopped his thoughts.

_"Well, I guess there is no problem… Kurt's house is still emptied. We still have to take his' things out and see what we can keep. So I guess it's not a big deal if you wanna visit and maybe keep something with you. I mean, if you really are writing a play, it's okay. Who knows? Maybe you'll find something interesting in his' stuff."_

Blaine could feel a smile spreading across his own face.

"Thank you so much, Isaac. It's going to be of great help. When can I meet you?"

_"Do you think you could meet me on Friday?"_

"Sure I could! Where?"

_"Well, do you have Kurt's address?"_

"As a matter of fact, yes… I do."

_"Wow! Or you're a really good creeper or you are really serious about this play. Okay, then. Meet me at that address on Friday at 3:30 p.m. and I'll show you the house."_

"Okay. See you soon, Mr. Hudson. Thank you."

* * *

On Friday, as expected, Blaine was incredibly nervous about meeting Isaac. He pulled over by Kurt Hummel's house. The construction was a typical 60's house. Big and with a front yard. And a porch. The yard was carefully mowed and the house didn't seem to be accumulating dust. Blaine assumed that even though Kurt had passed away, there was someone taking care of the house so it wouldn't be damaged.

A red, rusty Chevy pickup truck pulled over on the street and a tall, brown-haired man came out of it. He was young, maybe twenty-seven, twenty-eight years old, Blaine calculated. He was good-looking and seemed to be a pacific guy.

As soon as he saw Blaine he smiled politely and waved at him.

"Hello! Are you Blaine Anderson?"

"Yes. You must be Isaac."

"Hi." Isaac stretched out his arm and Blaine shook his hand "As you can see, this is my granduncle's house."

"It's very pretty."

"Well, it's classical. Anyway, you said you were writing a play and wanted some material to work with. Let's see if anything from Kurt can help."

"Yes. Thank you."

Isaac walked up to the porch and inserted the key on the door lock but before he turned the key so they could enter the house he turned to Blaine and looked at him.

"Listen, Blaine. I truly believe you are a play writer. So, please, don't be a con man, okay? If you are, believe me, Kurt didn't have many prized possessions so you're just wasting your time."

"I'm not a con man. I'm just a play writer. You can trust me."

Isaac looked with a straight face at Blaine and then smiled.

"Okay, come in." He turned the key and opened the front door.

Inside, everything was very minimalistic and simple. It had a few pictures inside of Kurt and his family, Kurt performing and some old playbills framed. Something demanded Blaine's attention immediately, there was an old victrola on top of the fireplace.

"As you can see. Nothing much. Kurt liked to collect the playbills of plays he worked in, others that were his favorites."

"Yes. I see."

"Maybe you can find something interesting, like a journal. Let's go up to his room and look there."

"Okay."

The house was very common, nothing extraordinaire explaining why and how Kurt had found Blaine or whatsoever. They got to the room. It was as simple as the house, it was a big room and there was a dressing table with some personal items on it. Blaine got closer and gave it a look. There were some books, and what seemed to be a music box of some sorts.

"So, why are you researching about Kurt anyway?"

"It's just because someone told me he was an underestimated star and my play is about Broadway in the mid-thirties."

"Hmm, okay. Do you know anything about him at all?"

"Just what the internet tells. And that's not much. Actually, it's probably nothing. I only know in which plays he worked and that he didn't get married or had any kids."

"Well, I'm sure Kurt wasn't alone all of his life but, you know, he wasn't a very traditional person."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, and stretched out his hand to grab a book that rested on top of the dressing table "Could I?" He asked looking at Isaac.

"Sure. What I mean is: Kurt was gay. He had to keep it kind of hidden because, well, if people are prejudiced now, imagine on the 1930's. So that's why Kurt didn't have any kids or got married. My grandfather, Finn, was his brother because Kurt's father married my great-grandmother."

"So you're not really related to Kurt?"

"No, but my dad really liked him for being his godfather and stuff… Anyway, Kurt was always involved with his own mysteries and he was extremely reserved. My dad says he loved this man, but he never said anything about him. But in a way, this man was Kurt's only and true love during his whole life."

"That sounds really romantic and such. But are you sure there are no records of this man?"

"Pretty sure there isn't. I believe he only habituated Kurt's mind since he never got to see him again."

"That is sad." Blaine looked at a painting of Kurt that hanged on the wall, just above the dossal of his bed, feeling extremely sorry for Kurt that probably felt lonely all along his life.

"Damn right it is. But he was a cheery person according to my dad. I knew him too, you know. He died really old. Dad said that when he was younger he was the most ironic person. And he was also very smart. Very bright. It is a pity that he didn't make it to be a big name of Broadway."

"Yes. It is. I think Broadway would be much brighter if he had been a household name."

Blaine grabbed the tiny music box in his hand and opened it. From inside of it, a melody he knew very well started to play. It was Liebestraum, a piece by Franz Liszt. It was Blaine's favorite piece. It had been one of the very first pieces he learned how to play on the piano and Blaine subconsciously felt very attached to it. He never had a favorite song, but a favorite piece. And that was it. Blaine couldn't help but think that he and Kurt were intertwined in more than one way.

"So uhm, are you going to take anything or…"

"Sure, I'll be going soon. I'm just…" A book caught Blaine's eye, it had a black cover and the title was Wormholes and Time Travel – The Possibility Of It All, Blaine didn't think twice and grabbed it "Can I take this?"

"Sure." Isaac answered "Come on, let's go."

They were almost leaving the house and Isaac stopped Blaine.

"Here" He handed Blaine a leather notebook "This belonged to Kurt. It is merely a journal, he doesn't say too much, it's just mainly song lyrics and schedules of his plays, but it can help you. It was at my house and my dad told me to give it to you."

"Thank you very much, Isaac. This is very nice of you and your father. It sure will help me a lot."

"Okay then. I guess I'll be going. If you need anything, I will be glad to help you again. You have my number."

"Sure. Thank you."

And Isaac got in the pickup and drove away. Blaine gave a last look to the already locked house, entered the rented car and drove away.

* * *

_"Wormholes are, essentially, shortcuts in space-time continuum that can link two places, whether they are near or further away from each other only by dislocating matter." _Blaine read on the book he grabbed from Kurt's house. Browsing through it, he read on the back cover the writer was this physics teacher Remi Miller; he was a teacher at the University of Chicago.

_"It is believed – and researched – that we might, in the future, travel through space only by connecting these holes across the universe. It is basically the very idea of teleporting. And that proposition also brings the possibility of travelling through periods of time, rearranging the time slips." _

"That is crazy, I just… What were you reading, Kurt?" Blaine said, incredulous "Is that what you want me to do? To learn advanced physics?" He gave up on the book and opened Kurt's journal, subconsciously, he felt like he was invading Kurt's privacy, but it was a little bit late to feel guilty about it.

As Isaac noted, the journal was mostly composed by music lyrics written across it. Blaine could recognize some, others he had never heard of. Kurt's handwrite was as beautiful as he was. Blaine put the journal aside and rubbed his eyes that were tired from reading and for being deprived of sleep on the past night due to Blaine's anxiety in finally discovering something about Kurt. He opened the journal again in a page with something Kurt drew. It was circular, delicate and very distinct. Blaine knew what it was as well as he knew himself. He took the same object out of his pocket. In the paper it was black and white, but in his hand, the golden watch was alive.

Under the picture, Kurt had scribbled:

_"This watch turns backwards if there's where you need to go."_

"You were all about enigmas, weren't you? The watch turns backwards…" Blaine wound the watch up so it would work, but it seemed as ordinary as every other watch he had seen. It didn't go backwards at all.

"It's a regular watch, it doesn't go backwards… Do _I_ need to go _backwards_? But backwards how -"

And then it hit him like a lightning. Why hadn't he realized before? It was crystal clear in front of him.

"You don't want me to study physics. You want me to go backwards. You want me to go _back_… You told me 'come back to me', but how can I do it?" Blaine looked away and his eyes fell on the book he left open on the tiny coffee table by the bed. He picked up the book and turned to the last page, only to state what he already knew. Kurt had left everything connected, and it was up to Blaine only to put the pieces together.

He contested Kurt had written the address of University of Chicago on the back cover. However, it had been at least four years since that was written. Blaine had to figure if this Miller guy was still teaching at the college.

Blaine laughed at himself for considering the idea of traveling back in time and that he was going completely crazy just by thinking about it. He admitted to himself he wanted to know Kurt, and more than that, young Kurt. He knew he was falling for Kurt. He felt it growing inside of his heart. But he just had to get over it, because there is no such thing as time travel. And yet, all Blaine wished at that moment was to stop being skeptical just for a moment and would believe he would actually achieve his objective. He wanted to meet Kurt, and he would meet Kurt. Even if he had to try and do something crazy like time travel.

* * *

"Now kids, this is very important. We are made of energy. We are essentially energy and electrons running through our whole body, sending synapsis through our brain. We are made of electric impulses." Remi Miller conducted his Advanced Physics and Optic class as Blaine entered the huge auditorium. Remi was tall, thin and ginger. He should be in his late thirties or early forties. "And right now I'm gonna make a revelation to you – and this is off the record because they are my thoughts and it isn't really a convention – but _we vibrate with the world_. We are part of it. And what happens with us, with our body, is nothing but what these electrons '_say_' it happens." The bell rung to signal the end of the class "So the next time you are in a field with almost no trees and for some reason a lightning storm begins, lay down and root that the lightening mistake you for grass and not as an electric aerial, 'cause chances are you are screwed" Miller said and the whole class laughed "See you tomorrow, guys."

As the students were leaving, Blaine approached the teacher who was now erasing the board.

"Professor Remi Miller?"

"Yes, that would be me." He turned to face Blaine "And who are you? I don't recall seeing your face around campus. Are you a transferred student? Home-exchange, perhaps?"

"No, sir, I'm not a student here. Or anywhere else for the matter. I just wanted to speak to you, Mr. Miller. I'm Blaine Anderson. I read your book on Wormholes."

"Oh, I see." Miller smiled "I didn't actually think nobody had read that piece of old rag. How did you like it?"

"It's very interesting… But –"

"You want to know if what I wrote is possible, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I came here for."

"Well, Blaine, in Physics lots of things is _possible_. But not all of them are possible right now, or in a long time, for that matter."

"So I can't travel through wormholes?"

"I'm afraid not, you can't."

"But didn't you write that we can by dislocating our body particles in an organized way?"

"Yes, I seem to have written that. But that is the problem. There is no way that we can organize our particles right now. So I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson, but I can't help you."

"You don't even know what I want."

"You want to travel back in time. That's not difficult to understand. And even if we had that kind of technology, we couldn't let anyone use it. Who knows what any of us were going to do with time if we break the space-time continuum. I mean, the world could not be existent right now if any of us had traveled back in time. Maybe another Great War would have begun with war power that would have potentially killed all of us."

"I don't want to start a nuclear war. I want just to travel in time."

Miller took his glasses off and cleaned the lenses.

"But there are things that could happen just by you being present in past. There are a few theories on what could happen… One of them is that you can't change the past, and people would simply ignore you as you were a ghost. You would simply not be seen. There is this other one that says you could change the past slightly but the space-time continuum would contour whatever you did and the past would stay the same. Do you understand what I mean? They are all theories. And so is travelling with wormholes."

"But is there any way I could travel in time? I read something about self-hypnotizing…" Blaine started.

"No, that's bullshit. It won't work. You'll simply have a conducted dream that will lead you to believe you traveled in time, but it will be nothing but an illusion."

"Okay, but there's gotta be a way…"

"No, there isn't! Why is it so difficult to understand?" The teacher raised his voice and then calmed down, sighed and began another time "Sorry, kid. There is no way you can travel in time right now. Come back in a few millenniums."

"Wow. It must really suck to be a liar, right? Because I recall your book you said it was a possibility and yet you deny everything you say. Thank you very much. This was very helpful." Blaine said and turned on his heels to exit the auditorium.

"Wait." Miller called behind him. "There's this one thing you should see."

Miller guided Blaine further into the Physics and Research department until they were in what Blaine assumed it could be a chamber filled with electronics and a big flat screen. By Blaine's side there was a metal man-sized capsule in vertical position with a transparent door and a hammock inside of it. On top of it, there were some cables attached to a heart monitor and some cables attached to what seemed to be a capacitor of some sorts.

"What is this, exactly?" Blaine asked.

"This" Miller gave an affectionate tap on the side of the capsule "is the first ever built time-machine. It was never tested, but the potency is theoretically enough to make a trip in a wormhole that will lead you to the period of time you wish."

"So that means it is a possibility!" Blaine was exultant.

"Yes, but just a possibility. Let's make that clear."

Blaine opened the door and entered the capsule.

"Wait! What do you think you're doing?!" Miller said.

"Turn it on. Let's give it a spin!"

"No, Blaine, you don't understand. If anything goes wrong with this machine you're going to become nothing but ashes. It will fry you whole!"

"I don't care!"

"You are insane. Get out of there."

"Come on! Come on, Miller! You've always wanted to see if this machine really works. And now you've got yourself a voluntary. Please."

"Even if I did that, when would you like to be transported?"

"At the Grand Hotel, in the mid-thirties of the twentieth century."

"Our Grand Hotel? At Chicago?"

"Precisely."

"You're not properly clothed, Blaine."

"Oh, the hell I'm not. Just look at me." And Blaine wasn't lying. Remi realized he was wearing a cardigan sweater, bow-tie, classic suit pants and canvas shoes. Blaine was quite vintage and it wouldn't be a problem to blend in.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Miller started to plug the cables here and there and glued the cable of the heart monitor to Blaine's neck just above the carotid. "If you turn to ashes, what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, clean them up and send it to my brother. Come on, if this works it's going to be something incredible. Do it for the science."

"Two hours. If you don't turn into dust in front of me, all I'm going to give you is two hours in 1936. And that will be it. I'm going to pull you back." Miller strapped Blaine's head still, closed the door and started to heat the machine. "Now, close your eyes. And remain your arms and legs in the vehicle at all times."

Blaine let out a laugh, and closed his eyes as Miller commanded. Miller turned the machine on and Blaine could hear the noise of the capacitor working.

"Good luck, Blaine!" Miller wished.

Blaine heard a loud noise and felt his body being pulled down. After a minute, Blaine didn't feel the straps around him anymore.

He re-opened his eyes to see a big hall, exactly like the one he just left. But something was different. Blaine looked around and saw people dressed different, the atmosphere was different. He re-opened his eyes to find himself at the Grand Hotel, Chicago, in 1936.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Hey, guys! It's me! So, I really wanted to apologize for how long I took to post this chapter, but school is taking a huge amount of time and effort (it's senior year for me, you guys). And I am studying my ass off. So, here is a new chapter out of the oven. I didn't abandon this story, don't worry. Anyway, here is a new chapter, in which Kurt meets Blaine and things start to happen. Enjoy!

* * *

"Good evening, sir. How can I help you?" Blaine heard a male voice behind him. He did it. Miller did it. Blaine had gone back in time. He turned to face the bellhop of the hotel, who smiled politely at him. It wasn't Henry. He sure looked similar to Henry, but around his thirties.

"I, um…" Blaine started.

"Can I help you with your luggage?"

"No. I mean, I didn't bring any."

"Oh, okay. Then you must've come for the Summer Showcase."

"Summer Showcase?" Blaine lifted his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes. Every summer we do the Summer Showcase. It's the event where we get a singer to entertain our guests by singing the greatest hits of the season. Lots of people come to enjoy it. They aren't staying in the hotel. They come only to see it. It's an open event. Actually, not open. You have to pay it." The bellhop explained patiently.

"Oh, okay. And how much does the ticket costs?"

"It's a hundred dollars, sir." The bellhop stretched his hand open in a funny way.

"Okay…" Blaine opened his wallet, and amongst credit cards he took a one-hundred dollar bill from inside of it. He put it on top of the bellhop's hand.

In return, the bellhop inserted his hand on his pocket and took a ticket out of it and handed it to Blaine.

"Thank you, sir." The bellhop thanked him. "The event only begins at six and it's only four. So, if you're not staying, you can't actually stay in the dependences of the hotel. Only if you consume something. I'm sorry, if it was for me, you could rest on the lounge. But the powers-to-be don't admit not-guests checking the Hotel around." The bellhop looked at him with an apology in his' eyes.

"That's fine. I'm just gonna wait outside." Blaine said "By the way, what is your name?"

"Oh, my name is Steve Collins."

"Steve, do you know if Kurt Hummel is here?" Blaine asked, feeling his heart skip a beat when he said Kurt's name out loud.

"Yes, sir. He is." Steve answered him. Blaine felt his heart burst with excitement "But I must warn you, sir, his agent isn't very fond of fans. Mr. Hummel, however, doesn't care about what his agent thinks. He spends his evenings by the lake. You might meet him there. But if his agent bust you, I didn't say anything…"

Blaine smiled widely.

"Thank you, Steve. You were of great help." Blaine grabbed a fifty dollar bill from inside of his wallet and gave to Steve as a gratuity and headed off to the lake.

He looked around trying to find Kurt but the boy wasn't there. Blaine felt frustrated and sat on the grass by the pier. He looked at the gold watch, it was 4:10. He had less than two hours to find Kurt and Miller said he would pull him out. Blaine was very astonished by the fact he just traveled in time. But his determination to find Kurt let that astonishing in second plan.

"Excuse me, I believe you are sitting in my favorite spot." A musical voice came from behind him. It was a male voice, very acute and smooth, but male nonetheless. Blaine liked the voice.

"Sorry." Blaine got up on his feet and turned around to see a picture. Kurt's picture. The light blue eyes stared at him in amusement, the tousled hair slightly more tousled because of the smooth breeze that rolled over them, the corners of Kurt's mouth were twitching upwards, exactly like the picture he had seen in the great hall with Henry – except it wasn't a picture. It was alive. Kurt was alive and Kurt had spoken to him. The voice Blaine had longed to hear, now he heard it. And it surprised him once more how flawed imagination can be. He could imagine how Kurt was by his best, but he would never imagine all the details that fascinated him now, like the tiny freckles on Kurt's nose and cheekbone area and the gracious stare at his' eyes, looking at Blaine with curiosity.

"Okay" Kurt started "I think I don't have to complain about it. It's not like my name is written here, or anything." Kurt said, amused.

Blaine answered him with dead silence and Kurt waited for a few seconds an answer that didn't come.

"Are you feeling fine? What happened? Did the cat eat your tongue?"

Blaine snapped out of it when he realized he had less than a couple hours to be in presence of Kurt and finally got out of the shock.

"I'm so sorry. It's just that I'm a…" Blaine wanted to say that he traveled back seventy-six years just to see him, but he figured that would freak Kurt out and consequently push Kurt away if he thought Blaine was nuts, so he decided to go with the safe "I'm a huge fan of yours, Mr. Hummel."

"Oh, thank you, kind sir!" Kurt let out a giggle and Blaine felt his heart doing something funny and he thought his heartbeat was so loud that Kurt might hear it. He thought '_Blaine, chill out_', but that thought didn't change his situation too much.

"I'm Blaine." Blaine would say his last name as well, but a thought occurred to him that if he actually said his name he might cause a time defection or something so he decided not to. "Just Blaine." And stretched out his hand.

"Fine, Just Blaine." Kurt took his hand and shook it "What brings you here?"

'_You_' Blaine wanted to answer, but again, that would freak Kurt out.

"Uhm, vacation, I guess."

"You are very mysterious…"

"Oh, sorry, am I being a weirdo?"

"No, I like that. It makes you interesting. Like a puzzle." Kurt smiled affectionately.

Blaine felt his cheeks blushing. _What the hell, am I some kind of eighth grader?_ he thought.

"So, Just Blaine, tell me about yourself." Kurt sat down on the grass and tapped a spot by his' side.

Blaine sat down.

"Well, I'm a writer. A play-writer actually."

"Really? Oh! That's interesting!" Kurt blurted out with excitement "I'm a performer, I work on Broadway."

"Yeah" Blaine giggled "I know, me too. The thing is I work behind the curtains. You are like, a star. Performers are always the stars of the show."

"Oh, shut up!" Kurt said, shyly "Without writers there would be no jobs for performers. You guys are way more important."

"Well, there was going to be no use for our plays without performers."

"Okay, okay. So I think we agree that we can't live without the other" Blaine stared in surprise at Kurt's blue eyes "I mean, performers can't live without play-writers and vice-versa."

"Yes. I think we agree on that." Blaine smiled.

"But really, what brings you here? And don't say vacation because that's obvious."

"I just got off of a relationship. Well, I mean, I'm not off of it, but I'm taking some time out of it."

"A time out?" Kurt seemed confused and Blaine suddenly realized he was in the mid-thirties and people just didn't explain their relationships updating Facebook statuses.

"Well, you see, something happened, and we fought and I decided to take a breather and come here to think about it a little, or not to think about it at all." Blaine explained.

"You. Are. So. Mysterious." Kurt answered "You are all about enigmas aren't you? _'Think about it a little, or not to think about it at all'_" Kurt said, imitating Blaine's voice "But you know what? Jokes aside, I understand you. We all have that one thing that we are supposed to solve but we just want to run away from it."

"Yeah, exactly."

"And are you managing to solve it?"

"Not at all." Both of them laughed when Blaine said this "But it's not like I want to put this off, it's just that I've been distracting myself with other things. More important things, I believe."

"And what is so important?" Kurt asked, leaning in Blaine's direction like he was so sure Blaine was about to spill a secret. So far, Blaine liked Kurt, he liked him very much. Isaac was right and Kurt was something to see, he was fun and friendly and very witty. Blaine couldn't help but feel attracted to him. And Blaine couldn't tell him what was so important. Because that would ruin everything.

So instead, Blaine just sighed.

"Uhm…"

"Oh, sorry!" Kurt said, getting up, suddenly feeling like an intruder "I believe those are private matters and I am – pardon my French – butting in."

"It's fine" Blaine pointed, also standing up from the spot he was sitting "It's just that I still haven't figured it out yet."

"It's just that you are a very interesting person to me, Blaine. And I believe you're fun too. Even though you are mysterious and all and it leaves me wondering if you murdered someone." Kurt joked.

"No murdering, I promise" Blaine raised his hands in a surrendering gesture "Just complicated. But you said you understood me. So, what's going on with you, Mr. Hummel?"

"Ugh, please, Mr. Hummel is my dad. I'm just Kurt."

"Okay, Just Kurt and Just Blaine, aren't we a matching pair?" Blaine said, jokingly. The more time he spent with Kurt, the more comfortable he felt. Kurt gave him a tiny tap on Blaine's shoulder.

"Yes, sir, I believe we are."

"But the part you understand me?"

"Oh, I'm not very conventional. My dad, he supports me, but you know, other people have certain restrictions against me." Kurt said, and in that moment Blaine noticed Kurt felt very vulnerable.

"Well, then they are not very nice people." Blaine stated, Kurt that was staring the ground changed his glance direction to look at Blaine. He saw Blaine's brown eyes, they were a kind of brown, a light brown that sometimes looked like a different shade of green, like that old green that was turning into hazel like leafs in the beginning of the autumn. Blaine was honest about it, Kurt decided he liked him. That he was different, like he didn't belong from this period of time. Everything just flowed so easily between the both of them. And Kurt sighed mentally at the thought Blaine was probably straight. Kurt just smiled gratefully at Blaine's statement. How many rare people do you know that make you feel like what other people say of you don't matter at all? Blaine was kind and Kurt could already feel it. Blaine was very attractive too, but that was a whole different subject.

"I guess so." Kurt said.

"I'm sure of it."

Kurt smiled at him.

"So, are you coming to the Summer Showcase?"

"Guess so." Blaine waved his ticket at Kurt.

"That's nice. I'm going to be sure to sing something nice to you."

"You're the one that's being showcased, then, huh?"

"Yes, I am. Do you have any preferences?" Kurt asked.

"No, sing something you think I'll enjoy, I trust you." Blaine replied.

"Okay, then I'm going to sing jingles…" Kurt joked and Blaine laughed and exclaimed "Oh, no!"

"I'm just kidding" Kurt added "I'm going to sing something classy for you. Because you strike me as a classy person."

"Me?!" Blaine pointed at himself, disbelieving. "Cut it out. You, on the other hand."

"Now you're just making me blush." Kurt said softly, grinning.

"Hey, Kurt!" Another voice came in, harsh and urgent. Blaine turned to see where the voice came from, a tall, skinny, blonde man walked up towards them. He was in his late thirties, maybe early forties, Blaine evaluated.

"Oh, James, this is my friend Blaine. Blaine, this is my agent, James Highman."

Blaine held out his hand, but the man didn't take it.

"Making friends again, huh? How many times have I told you, you're a star. You can't be dealing with unknown peasants."

"Excuse me, I'm not a peasant." Blaine intervened "And, by the way, he's your boss, not the contrary, so you should treat him better."

"And who are you again? Oh, yes, it actually doesn't matter, so if you don't mind, Kurt, can you please join me? We have a show to put on." James pulled Kurt up by his arm in a not-gentle way, and Blaine got out of his mind just by watching it. He immediately stood up.

"Hey!" He interjected, with anger piling up in his voice. Kurt signed to him to not make a fuss.

"It's okay, Blaine. Really. It's just the contract."

"This is absurd!"

"You are absurd. You are a nobody that comes in here and thinks you're entitled to have an opinion on what's going on. I made his name. And as long he's working with me, he follows the contract." Highman spat out.

Kurt got off from Highman's steel grasp and got close to Blaine once again.

"Please, it's okay, just promise me you will come see me tonight."

"I wouldn't miss it." Blaine replied.

"I'll see you later, Just Blaine." Kurt smiled and turned his back to Blaine as he walked back into the hotel with Highman.

Blaine watched, ten, fifteen minutes passed and his anger still hadn't gone away. Who did he think he was? James Highman, who the hell was he? He was a prick, that's what Blaine thought. And right there, he decided he would confront Highman, so Kurt could be free from the way Highman treated him. He kicked a wisp of grass. Then, he looked at the watch, and it was 5:58 p.m. He had two minutes in 1936 and then he would be pulled back.

Blaine stared longingly at the Grand Hotel, wailing he wouldn't be able to see Kurt singing and then he felt a pull, a stomach-churning sensation and a latent headache, when he came to his senses, Blaine was in Miller's lab once again. The teacher looked at him with a marveled expression. Miller was speechless.

"Well, it worked." Blaine sulked.

"I can see that! Oh, my! This is great, Blaine. This is just great! No time deflections were detected, this is incredible. Did you interact with anyone?" Miller celebrated.

"Yes, I did. And yes, I know you're very happy" Blaine stood up and got out of the metal tube "But I need more time in 1936."

"Well, we know it's possible now, but I don't think it's advisable."

"I tested your machine, please, just send me back."

"Blaine, why don't you go home, rest and come back tomorrow? Your vital signs dropped considerably during the time you were in the machine. I fear for your health. So, reconsider it, eat something, recover from this experience and come back tomorrow. The machine will still be here."

"Fine." Blaine said, unwillingly "I will come back, you know."

"I'm counting on it." Miller smiled.

Blaine went back to the hotel and a million thoughts crossed his mind, he was baffled, angry and amazed all at once. He was amazed at Kurt and how he looked and acted like a painting and he couldn't help himself to think he was platonically falling for Kurt. And then Blaine was angry at the way Kurt's agent treated him, and Blaine was never the guy that picked-up fights but he would've punched that guy in the face if that didn't put Kurt into any trouble. Finally, Blaine lied down and his mind wandered off, he dreamed about hearing Kurt singing, the way he looked at Blaine and peacefully, thinking about Kurt's eyes, Blaine fell asleep.


End file.
